


although it's been said (many times, many ways)

by tesselated



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, yamaguchi tadashi's canonical feelings about dogs and snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tesselated/pseuds/tesselated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima decides to get Yamaguchi a dog for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	although it's been said (many times, many ways)

**Author's Note:**

> WELL it's the 27th in my timezone but MERRY CHRISTMAS, here's some fic about tsukkiyama being old grown-ups who love each other and karasuno first years being adult buds. also there's a DOG guys. inspired by haikyuu chapter covers [150](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/haikyuu/images/4/42/Chapter_150.png/revision/latest?cb=20150626162603) (yamaguchi enraptured by dog) and [187](http://i.imgur.com/Iev8SpJ.png) (yamaguchi meets snow)

“What are you getting Yamaguchi for Christmas?” 

Kageyama is sitting across the table from him, a cup of coffee in his hand, looking vaguely interested. Kageyama’s version of interested, anyway, which is most people’s version of annoyed. Tsukishima sips his tea.

“I have an idea,” Tsukishima says evenly. 

“Well that’s good, since Christmas is in a week,” Kageyama replies with a roll of his eyes. 

Tsukishima is aware of this fact; while they sit at the table, Hinata and Yamaguchi are decorating the Christmas tree in the corner of Kageyama and Hinata’s living room, Hinata is standing on tip-toes to hang tinsel and Yamaguchi being asked to put the ornaments near the top of the tree.

“I want to get him a dog.” Tsukishima says quietly, with a defeated sigh. Kageyama stares.

“Want,” Kageyama repeats with a note of disbelief. “You want a dog.”

“Quiet,” Tsukishima warns, even though they both know that Hinata is speaking too loudly for Yamaguchi to hear them. “And no. I don’t _want_ a dog, but.” 

The _but_ is the fact that Tsukishima has caught Yamaguchi taking pictures of dogs he passes in the street six times this month. It’s not new, but something about it always felt sad to Tsukishima. And they’re _old_ now, the same age as most of their friends who have children. Kageyama and Hinata’s daughters are asleep on the sofa, living breathing reminders that on the responsible adult scale, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are technically behind. Neither of them have interest in raising children, but it doesn’t make their apartment feel less empty after visiting Hinata and Kageyama’s. For all of the unsettled chaos (never far behind Hinata and Kageyama), their own life feels too quiet, sometimes.

“But,” Kageyama nods like he understands. 

Hinata has started a rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas in accented English with Yamaguchi laughing before following along in Japanese.

“What are you getting Hinata?” Tsukishima asks, out of politeness but also a quiet fascination with the way Kageyama and Hinata exist. They have known each other for nearly twenty years, but it still never ceases to amaze him that they are living, functioning humans. With jobs and children and everything.

“Volleyball lessons for Mei,” Kageyama says, sipping his coffee again and glancing over Tsukishima’s shoulder at the girls on the couch.

Tsukishima furrows his eyebrows and gives Kageyama a dry look. “She’s four.” 

“That’s why it’s a gift for Hinata and not Mei,” Kageyama says simply.

“Kageyama! Help with the tree!” Hinata yells like an order, doing a little jump and everything. Kageyama has a look, like he accidentally smiled and his face hated it. 

Yamaguchi turns to catch Tsukishima’s eye and laugh, embarrassed. Tsukishima rolls his eyes and grins. He abandons his tea and walks over toward the mess surrounding the tree, the floor covered in tinsel and pine needles.

“ _Omedetou kurisumasu_ ,” Yamaguchi says, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

“So I hear,” Tsukishima says with a smile. “You have glitter all over your face.”

Yamaguchi brings his fingers up to his cheeks and looks down. “Oh. Yeah. You and Kageyama were carrying the tree when Mei and Yuna found the glitter.” 

“Thank god,” Tsukishima mutters, and Yamaguchi stares at him for a minute before rubbing the glitter from his fingers onto Tsukishima’s cheek. 

“Oh good, thanks,” he offers weakly when Yamaguchi moves on to spreading it across his neck, laughing quietly to himself. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Yamaguchi says, still giggling. 

“Stop jumping around, you’re going to knock everything off the tree!” Kageyama yells.

“No I won’t!” 

There’s a crash, followed by the sounds of Mei and Yuna waking up and asking questions in their small voices.

“We should leave before we’re asked to help clean up,” Yamaguchi says out of the corner of his mouth.

“I like the way you think,” Tsukishima mutters, and Yamaguchi’s fingers find their way to rest on Tsukishima’s hip in a comforting sort of way. 

It’s been fifteen years years, at least, since Tsukishima began to think of Yamaguchi’s hands as something comforting, a thought that occurs to him on their short train ride home. They don’t celebrate many anniversaries, because in the long run, there wasn’t one individual day that began anything. They happened slowly over too many days to remember, and it’s been too many days since. Today, on the train, Yamaguchi bites his lip while scrolling on his phone screen, fingers laced together with Tsukishima’s on the seat between them.

“I like you,” he says quietly, affection warm in his stomach. It makes Yamaguchi look up from his phone, surprised.

“Tsukki, do you mean like, or…” he pauses, glancing around and blinking innocently with his wide eyes, “ _like like_?” 

“Shut up,” Tsukishima snorts.

“No one has ever confessed to me before!” Yamaguchi bites his lip in faux-nervousness. “And at Christmas, too.”

“Cute. Very cute.” Tsukishima says derisively, turning his head so Yamaguchi doesn’t see him smiling.

Yamaguchi is snickering at Tsukishima’s expense but he laces their fingers together on the seat between them anyway.

++

“How do you pick a dog?” Kageyama asks as they stand awkwardly outside the animal shelter.

“I don’t know. I think you just know, when you look at them,” Tsukishima mutters. Neither of them particularly want to go inside, but Tsukishima dragged Kageyama all the way here, so they’ll have to eventually. 

“Isn’t that what women say about wedding dresses?” Kageyama asks, perplexed.

“How would you know?” Tsukishima shoots back.

Kageyama narrows his eyes. “Weird insult, considering you are just as gay as I am.” 

“Fair point.” Tsukishima concedes. 

As it turns out, picking a dog is sort of a daunting task when faced with thirty of them. He’s used to selecting between things with objective value, objects that are able to be ranked; he searches “best toothbrush” on the internet before buying a new one, does his research on brands of bedsheets. He wishes he could ask the man corralling dogs in and out of their pens, _excuse me but which dog is the best dog?_ and take that one.

“We should have brought someone else,” Kageyama says, sounding overwhelmed. 

“Who? Hinata can’t keep a secret to save his life.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes, and Kageyama looks like he wants to defend Hinata before shrugging it off. 

“No, someone with…” Kageyama trails off.

“Emotions?” Tsukishima fills in, deadpan.

“We have _emotions._ ” Kageyama says defensively.

Tsukishima nods. “I meant someone with _better_ emotions.” 

They stare at each other for a moment, thinking, before Kageyama gets out his phone.

“Yachi?” Tsukishima asks.

“Yachi,” Kageyama nods. 

Yachi Hitoka looks vaguely overwhelmed when she sees the dogs.

“Sorry, just. There are so many of them.” She says weakly, fingers messing with one of the buttons of her sweater. 

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Tsukishima sighs. 

“Okay, we can do this!” Yachi says in a slightly wobbly voice, but she looks determined enough. “We are going to play with the dogs.” They all look ambivalent about the idea, but between the three of them, Tsukishima figures they can make up one fully functioning person. 

Ten minutes later, looking vaguely uncomfortable at the fact that a small dog has fallen asleep in his lap, Kageyama says, “I think maybe any dog would be fine.” 

“That’s not true, some dogs are scary,” Yachi corrects. “And some dogs are mean, probably.” 

“And some smell bad.” Tsukishima continues. The dogs seem to have little interest in him as a person, which is probably fine. There are six that keep bouncing around Yachi excitedly, and if nothing else, it’s entertaining to watch.

They haven’t made much progress on the dog selection, though he keeps looking over at Yachi expectantly, as if some sort of intuition will come through to her and one of the dogs will start glowing gold, the clear choice. There’s the one sleeping in Kageyama’s lap, with brown curly fur, but even though Tsukishima appreciates a quiet animal, he thinks it might be too small. There are several that keep _barking_ , and he knows that dogs bark, but he doesn’t need one that makes those intentions clear from the get-go. 

“Hey,” Kageyama says, pointing across the playpen at one of the dogs that hasn’t had much interest in them. “What about that one.”

It’s medium-sized, a good dog size, with short black fur that fades into tan on its chest and legs and ears that stick up. It looks over at Tsukishima like it can feel the scrutiny but quickly turns back to the toy in front of its paws, uninterested. 

“It’s cute,” Yachi agrees, a large hound sniffing at the braid in her hair and trying to pull it out with its teeth. 

“It seems to understand boundaries,” Tsukishima says, considering. 

He stands up and walks over to it. “Hi,” he offers, looking down at the dog. The dog looks up. They sit across from each other for a few minutes, neither of them doing much. At one point the dog offers its chewed-up stuffed animal, but Tsukishima shakes his head. “No, that’s okay.” 

Feeling bold, he reaches out to pet its head. It seems open to the concept, and scoots closer to him. 

“We could live together, right?” Tsukishima asks quietly. He would feel silly for doing so, but Yachi is in a full-blown conversation with a dog that keeps barking at her. The dog blinks at him before opening its mouth to pant, making it look like it’s smiling. He takes it as a good sign.

“I think this is the dog,” Tsukishima says louder, grabbing the attention of Kageyama and Yachi, who walk over. 

Yachi crouches down, looking the dog over carefully. “It’s a mutt, I guess. Or, not _it_ ,” she glances down at the lower half of the dog’s body, “he. He’s a mutt.” 

“That’s fine,” shrugs Tsukishima. 

She leans in and gently takes the tag hanging off his collar between her fingers to read it. 

“Why is he named after dumplings?” Kageyama asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Tsukishima glances at the name. _Dango_. 

“His little eyebrows!” Yachi exclaims, pointing to the tan circles above his eyes. “That’s so cute.” 

It is kind of cute, actually, Tsukishima thinks to himself. “This is the dog.” 

“Dango-san,” Yachi says seriously, petting the dog’s head, “you are a Christmas present for Yamaguchi. You will like him.” 

“Everyone likes him,” Tsukishima says, nodding at the dog.

“He is very nice. Tsukishima is fine too.” Kageyama chimes in. Dango sniffs loudly. “He doesn’t like you,” Kageyama turns to tell Tsukishima.

Tsukishima fills out paperwork at the desk in the front of the animal shelter while Yachi and Kageyama trade ideas on how to deliver the dog. 

“You should put a bow on his head,” says Yachi eagerly, “a red one.”

“Hitoka, no,” Tsukishima says evenly as they walk out of the front doors, holding a little certificate that tells him he now owns a dog.

“You never want to do the cute thing,” Yachi says with a sigh, disappointed.

++

The other side of the bed is empty.

It’s still dark out, must be before seven in the morning, and Tsukishima’s arms feel uselessly at the still-warm sheets next to him. 

“Tadashi,” he says in a quiet voice, “come back to bed.” 

 

He hears rustling from the other side of the room and wonders to himself if it’s worth it to open his eyes. _No,_ he decides, _it’s still_ dark _out_. 

“Tadashi,” He says again with a sigh. 

“There’s snow,” Yamaguchi says back, excitement audible in his voice. Despite himself, Tsukishima smiles. 

“How much?” He asks, rolling over onto his side and blinking his eyes open. There’s a low light coming in from the window, the sun trying to rise, and in front of the glass is Yamaguchi. He’s in one of Tsukishima’s sweaters, too big on his narrow shoulders. 

“Just a few centimeters, I think.” 

“Not enough to do anything with,” Tsukishima says quietly. There’s an atmosphere he doesn’t want to disturb: Yamaguchi in the sweater staring out the window, the snow making the slow sunrise look brighter. Yamaguchi’s hair is sticking up and he only has one sock on and Tsukishima stares at him, wills himself to make this a memory. 

Yamaguchi smiles, still staring out the window. “No, but it’s pretty.” He turns from the window and clambers back into their bed, pressing his cold feet against Tsukishima’s legs. 

“Merry Christmas, Kei.” Yamaguchi says softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Tsukishima’s neck.

“You too,” Tsukishima says blearily, leaning into the feeling and letting himself fall back asleep. 

It was supposed to be a surprise. That was the plan. He had taken every length to ensure that Yamaguchi would be _surprised_ on Christmas. After speaking to several different employees of the animal shelter, he felt reasonably sure that he was going to accomplish this goal.

He’s surprised, then, to be woken up on Christmas morning by pressure on his ribcage and the sound of Yamaguchi screaming. He opens his eyes, confused and alarmed, and is faced with the black and brown fur of Dango the dog. 

“What the _fuck_ ,” he tells the dog angrily, who sniffs his chest. 

“ _Tsukishima Kei,_ ” Yamaguchi calls, walking into the room still mostly undressed, “you got me a _dog_?” 

“Merry Christmas,” Tsukishima offers weakly, reaching over to the nightstand to grab his glasses. 

“There’s a _dog_!” Yamaguchi yells, as if the dog in question wasn’t currently laying on top of Tsukishima. 

“His name is Dango,” Tsukishima nods.

“His name is _Dango_!” Yamaguchi repeats frantically.

Tsukishima sighs. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I am _very surprised_!”

Yamaguchi stands in the middle of the room for another minute, looking confused and disbelieving at the dog on Tsukishima’s chest.  
“I can’t believe you,” he says finally, a small smile appearing on his face. “I actually can’t believe you.” 

Dango, apparently bored by Tsukishima, stands up and jumps off the bed, sniffing around the room while Yamaguchi stares at him excitedly. 

“He’s your dog, you can pet him,” Tsukishima says, amused. Yamaguchi nods wordlessly and bends down toward Dango, who looks up at him curiously. 

“Hi, dog.” Yamaguchi says softly, and Dango sniffs Yamaguchi’s face before licking his chin. 

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Yamaguchi whispers.

Tsukishima sits up, stifling a laugh. 

“Is he really my dog?” Yamaguchi asks, looking up at Tsukishima. 

“He’s really your dog,” Tsukishima assures him with a grin. 

“Kei, I’m going to cry just a little bit and you’re not allowed to make fun of me.” Yamaguchi says, sitting down on the floor next to Dango. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tsukishima tells him, being honest. 

Yamaguchi sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, still covered by Tsukishima’s sweater, and his eyes get watery as he runs his hands through the dog’s fur. “My gift sucks compared to this,” he mutters, and Tsukishima lets out a surprised laugh. 

“I really love you, you know.” Yamaguchi says, and Tsukishima thinks it might be aimed toward Dango before he turns and looks up at him, rubbing at his eyes. 

Tsukishima smiles. “Yeah, well.” 

Yamaguchi shakes his head, stands up and walks over to the edge of the bed. “Thank you, really.” He sits down next to Tsukishima and kisses him, soft and sweet. He lets his fingers rest on Tsukishima’s cheekbones when he pulls away and tells him, “You really are a good one.” 

Tsukishima can feel himself blushing at such honest affection, and he shrugs to himself sheepishly. 

“You got me a _dog_. Wow. I’m gonna go call my mom.” Yamaguchi says, mostly to himself, before shuffling off into another room. 

He watches Yamaguchi sit on the floor next to Dango, petting behind his ears and speaking with rapid excitement to his mother, and smiles to himself again. Yamaguchi catches his eye and pulls a face, making Tsukishima snicker. 

“Yeah, merry Christmas,” Yamaguchi says into the phone, still looking up at Tsukishima and smiling so his nose is scrunched up. Dango licks his face again and Yamaguchi beams, and Tsukishima is grateful, for a lot of things.

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone is interested (i know i am) [here](http://www.pafriends.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/HankDog.jpg) is my reference picture for dango the dog. merry belated christmas to all and to all a good yamatsukki


End file.
